Chapter Text
Jun-hee wouldn't be surprised if those were dismembered limbs of the ones she held so close.
She looks up at Gi-hun. “Do you have any idea what those are?”
“Suits,” He answered immediately. They give us black suits instead of our normal green tracksuits.”
“Why?”
“A so-called reward to the players who reached the final game.”
“How many players were left back then?”
Gi-hun gulped. “Three. Me and tw- two others.”
Jun-hee sees the look on his face. “I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that.”
“It's alright,” He says, letting go of Jun-hee. “Come on, we have to get our suits, you have to go to the bathroom alone with Yeon-hee, since there is no other woman here. Be careful.”
Jun-hee gets up with Gi-hun's help, heading over to the two guards standing alone with their boxes.
Gi-hun wordlessly takes both of the boxes. “I'll drop you off at the bathroom, let's go.”
Heading towards the bathroom, Jun-hee caught Myung-gi standing right outside the men's bathroom, looking at Gi-hun with an irritated face, before quickly rushing to the bathroom after realizing he was caught.
Stopping right before the women's bathroom, Gi-hun dropped the box containing Jun-hee's clothes on the floor. "I'll get changed as soon as possible and meet you right outside the bathroom, alright?"
Jun-hee nodded.
Gi-hun ran a hand across her hair. “Be careful.” He said, before heading off.
Jun-hee almost felt like calling out to him to stop as she watched him leave, turning to go into the bathroom to change her clothes. Looking in the mirror, taking the jacket off her waist that once belonged to Halmeoni, she lightly cried, looking at the number.
“Eomma is such a mess,” Jun-hee sobbed. “How will she take care of you, Yeon-hee-ya?”
The baby simply cooed, oblivious to the danger surrounding her.
Jun-hee opened the box, a suit that was visibly too big for her. She was confused, until her eyes drifted to the number.
456.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Someone pounded at the door, making Jun-hee flinch.
“Number 222,” The guard said. “Number 456's suit.”
Jun-hee closed the box with shaky hands, rushing to the door, pulling it open to see Gi-hun next to the guard, as the latter quickly took Gi-hun's box from her hands. Gi-hun was still in his tracksuit shirt, holding the box that contained Jun-hee's suit.
“Jun-hee-ya.” He took in her face. “You- you've been crying, are you alright—”
“We'll talk after we change our clothes.” Jun-hee frantically grabs the box from Gi-hun’s hands and shuts the door—loud.
Taking the box she's just received with shaky hands, Jun-hee quickly puts it down by the sink, opening it up to see her number.
Jun-hee sighed, taking off her shirt.
She took a long look at her slender waist, a bit tired and softened by pregnancy, but really, it was thin. Even pregnancy itself couldn't do shit to my hypermetabolism, she thought, annoyed. Admiring her thin figure in the mirror, which she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to look at in the past nine months, staring into the mirror, it takes her back to her college days. When everyone was so jealous of her ‘non-existent stomach’, shocked that no matter how much she ate, she never gained weight.
It’s not like she had enough money to eat all kinds of junk food anyway.
Up to that point, it annoyed Jun-hee that she couldn’t gain weight and be strong like the boys in her orphanage, but she soon adapted to the fact that it was more of a blessing to be so small, almost every cheapest to cheapest clothes she bought with her scholarship funds fitting her nicely. She still hated it, though, sometimes. The feeling that many women look at her with envy, or that she’ll always be weak.
So weak that she couldn’t even fight for her baby on her own and murdered two lovely women.
Jun-hee snapped out of her train of thought, the eerie cold surrounding the bathroom biting at her skin as she took off her track pants, her clothes piling up on the floor, which she couldn’t really care about. Jun-hee had never been the person to leave a public bathroom or restaurant or anything like that, as it is when she used one, always cleaning up after herself, no matter how many people say ‘they have staff for that.’. But in these games? She couldn’t bring herself to give a fuck. If they can clean up bloodstains and dead bodies, they can damn well pick up some clothes off the floor.
Or maybe not.
Maybe just leave it as it is, not like this place is oh-so-clean anyway.
Quickly putting on the shirt and pants, she looked at the blazer.
She wanted to laugh at how much it reminded her of the uniform of that crappy school they sent her to.
She debated whether to put on the blazer or not, and ultimately decided to drape it over her shoulders. Her college roommate, Jung Mi-yeon, had been obsessed with wearing a coat like this, saying that it’s ‘classy’. Jun-hee wonders where she is now.
Yeon-hee started to cry.
Jun-hee quickly picked up the baby, rocking her to quiet down. When she didn’t, Jun-hee knew what she had to do.
Sitting down on the floor, back against the wall, Jun-hee shook the blazer off her shoulders and rolled up her shirt, breastfeeding her child.
Looking at the sweet, innocent, so blissfully unaware child drinking the milk, Jun-hee couldn’t help but smile as Yeon-hee withdrew her mouth, smacking her lips as Jun-hee rolled her shirt down.
“Mianhae, Yeon-hee-ya.. that’s all eomma can do for now. Maybe those selfish guards would soften up and feed you a bit of formula.” Her voice cracked, tears welling up.
Jun-hee mindlessly, with some difficulty, picked up Geum-ja’s jacket, which was lying up next to the sink.
Staring at the baby, the baby for whom the original owner of the jacket in Jun-hee’s hand had died, Jun-hee broke into harsh, loud sobs, not caring whether the guards heard it or not.
Yeon-hee wailed along with her mother.
The PA’s voice rang in Jun-hee’s head.
”Player 149, eliminated.”
Jun-hee’s cries got louder, so much louder than they were when Jun-hee first laid her eyes on her hanging corpse.
”Player 149, eliminated.”
Yeon-hee didn’t stop wailing.
“Player 149, eliminated.”
And so didn’t Jun-hee.
“Player 149, eliminated.”
A loud crash against the door, and Jun-hee was jolted out of her sobs as she almost dropped Yeon-hee.
The guards.
“I- I’m coming—”
”Jun-hee-ya!”
Jun-hee’s head snapped to the door.
“Number 456, you can’t go in there.”
“My friend is in there!”
The door burst open, Gi-hun dropping to his knees beside the crying woman.
“Jun-hee-ya!” He grabs her shoulders. “Oh, are you in pain—is it post-labour pains?” Jun-hee continued sobbing.
“Tell me where it hurts!” He said desperately, in a shaky voice.
”Ajeossi.”
“Y- Yes?”
”I don’t wanna die.”
Gi-hun went silent at that, hesitating for a few moments before wrapping Jun-hee in a tight hug.
Jun-hee hugged back even tighter, letting her sob for a few moments.
Gi-hun helped her up, before the guard asked for Yeon-hee.
“We are simply going to settle her down for the final night. You can trust us.” The guard took the baby, exiting the bathroom.
Jun-hee saw Gi-hun glaring at the guard with such harsh eyes that she involuntarily gulped in fear despite the stare not being directed towards her.
“You and your aegi are gonna live.”
Jun-hee nodded at Gi-hun, holding his arm.
“That I swear to you.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Classical music began playing once again, and Jun-hee had felt slightly embarrassed walking back to the dormitory alongside the man whose blazer's shoulder area was now stained with her tears.
Just as they exited the bathroom, they were greeted by nine dinner tables set in a circular shape, each table holding utensils full of food.
“Excuse me.”
Both Jun-hee and Gi-hun turned around.
“J- Number 222.. she was ah- my friend.. in mingle. Can I borrow her for a moment, Songsaenim?”
Jun-hee gave Myung-gi a bitter look, and before she could signal Gi-hun to say ‘no’, he had already nodded, walking a few steps away from them and looking away to give them space.
Jun-hee sharply turned to Myung-gi. “What is it?”
“Who is he?”
“What?”
“Who is that old man to you?” Myung-gi had lost his patience with Jun-hee, his voice harsh.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jun-hee bit back. “He’s my teammate, my friend, the only one who’s alive—”
”Is that baby even mine, you fucking whore?” He snarled with a low but harsh voice. “Or does it belong to the old ha—”
“How dare you?” Jun-hee looked at him with shock. “How- how can you even think that? How can you have the fucking balls to call me that? After killing all my friends, this is the defense you come up with? That the baby isn’t yours, and that I fucked a fifty year old man?”
“That old man said that he played the games before,” Myung-gi stepped closer. “Is it true? Is that why you chose to let him get you in bed, huh? Was it the money he had in his account, you slut?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jun-hee backed away. “What the hell is wrong with you? You- just- stay away from me-”
Jun-hee turned around to leave, but was stopped again, only by Myung-gi’s voice.
“You want me to play the villain, Jun-hee-ya?”
Jun-hee stayed silent.
“Alright, I’ll play the villain.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Jun-hee quickly marched up to Gi-hun.
“What happened, Jun-hee-ya?”
“Nothing—“
“I saw that man talk to you in jump rope too, maybe he wants to help you-“
“He’s an idiot and I don’t want anything to do with him, let’s just go.”
Gi-hun just nodded, agreeing to Jun-hee's wishes.
Only two out of the nine tables were empty, the first seven already eagerly taken by the O voters, alongside Min-su and Myung-gi.
Jun-hee could only hope that the bastard doesn’t switch the vote now that she had permanently declared the end of their ‘relationship’, which in reality had ended months ago, but Jun-hee really started to trust Myung-gi in these games. Not after he murdered her best friends, and also called her slurs just now, of course.
Jun-hee gestured for Gi-hun to take the table at the very corner of the circle. “Eat properly this time.” She lowly said to the older man before taking the only other table left, which, being far away Gi-hun’s.
“Everyone, please take your seats.”
Jun-hee kept staring at Yeon-hee before finally pulling the chair, looking at both Myung-gi and Gi-hun, her gaze somehow shifting to Han-beon-deo. She felt like giggling when she saw his fatass look at the food like a starving dog.
In all honesty, she was one, too. Her stomach growling, thankfully not too loud, even though she had lost all appetite. At least she was not visibly drooling at the feast as if she was invited to a party, and didn’t just come back from watching people get swung off a 100-foot-tall bridge.
She saw Gi-hun staring into the crib where Yeon-hee was put in by the guards when they took her, not even sparing a glance at what was on the table.
Jun-hee felt like a hypocrite, telling Gi-hun to eat despite not wanting to herself. But when she heard metal clink together and saw 203 grab a piece of cutlery, her hand shot out to grab her own, not letting any of these older bastards get to eat the food before her and get her to follow the ‘rules’.
Ever.
“For everyone, we have prepared all the foods and drinks you may need.”
After killing our friends? Such generosity.
“If you need more, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Jun-hee could almost see the guard shoot a look at Han-beon-deo.
To everyone’s surprise, just as 100 picked up a piece of meat, Jun-hee very loudly slurped down a bite of rice, feeling the stares of all the older men in the room rip through her body as she loudly chewed. Anyone who knew her well before the games would definitely point out that this wasn’t like her at all, and that she hated the sound of a living being chewing food.
And now, she used the very trait she hated a lot, mostly in men, to provoke men.
Han-beon-deo stopped staring, eating the meat and shoving the rice down his throat. Some devoured the veggies, some focused on the jjajangmyeon, Min-su chugged down water, and Myung-gi shoved beef into his mouth one by one.
Jun-hee almost spat out the rice she was still chewing, the guilt of eating before her baby gets to overtaking the satisfaction of breaking table etiquette.
Jun-hee struggled to swallow the rice.
“No wonder you’re such a small girl,” 100 started. “Struggling to eat even a single bite of food, how’d you push out that damn baby, huh? No sense of table manners when sitting between elders.”
“Elders?” Jun-hee questioned. “You mean an old hag the size of a sentient refrigerator who calls Transgender people slurs and drools at food like a cartoon character?” Jun-hee snarled in one breath, and heard some laughs escape the crowd.
Looking around, she saw Myung-gi make no expression, Min-su not pay attention and continue pouring down the drinks into himself, the O voters laughing even though they’re 100’s so-called ‘friends’, and Gi-hun huffing. It’s not a real laugh, but it’s enough to make Jun-hee chuckle. Her gaze flickered to the untouched food on his table, and her expression went back to normal.
A circle guard approached Yeon-hee with a box most likely containing a bottle of baby formula, Gi-hun and her looking up in anticipation, as Jun-hee sent a bitter look to Myung-gi, who continued devouring the meat.
Watching the guard sit down and feed Yeon-hee milk, Jun-hee wished she could see her baby’s adorable face suck on the bottle.
The guard continued to feed Yeon-hee as Jun-hee was finally able to muster up enough courage to eat her food, her gaze snapping to Gi-hun as he did the same thing, taking a bite of the rice just like she did to metaphorically punch the older men in the face.
Turning back to her food, Jun-hee chewed on the meat, including the same beef she saw Myung-gi plunge into his mouth earlier.
The guilt engulfing her soul slowly rose with each bite she took, and the more she savoured the flavour despite knowing she had been surviving on one dry meal per day for the past five days.
She kept looking in Gi-hun’s direction to see if he had eaten a good amount of food, knowing that a full stomach induces good sleep and Gi-hun needed some sleep for tomorrow’s game. Seeing Gi-hun stare into Dae-ho’s soul the day before yesterday’s night and getting up from her sleep to see him in that exact same position, mumbling something incoherent like a psycho had been quite unsettling.
She picked up the jjajangmyeon next, reflecting on how she’d missed the flavor of noodles due to food restrictions while being pregnant.
Putting the bowl down to chew, she made brief eye contact with Gi-hun, signaling him to eat more, to which he took bites of rice so small even Yeon-hee could fit a bite bigger than that.
She kept eating the noodles before setting the plate down as the guards approached with the voting buttons.
“To decide whether to play the next game, everyone will take a vote.”
In which the Xs could never win.
“Before you vote,” Jun-hee’s head turned upwards, fully this time, to hear what the guard had to say.
“You will be given a hint about the final game.”
Most of the players had started to pay attention now.
“In the final game,” The guard continued. ”Everyone will get to eliminate players by choice.”
Jun-hee very audibly spat out the noodles in her mouth, making several heads turn to her direction as she coughed, her head snapping up to look at Yeon-hee still being fed by the guard, and Gi-hun, whose hand visibly trembled in shock as the spoon in the respective hand jittered, Gi-hun staring at the guard with an expression Jun-hee couldn’t see.
“What?” 100 started. “Who get’s eliminated, we get to decide that?”
Jun-hee felt like punching him in the face, watching him talk with the food inside his mouth.
“That is correct. Everyone here will get to choose to eliminate three players, and the rest will make it through the game.”
Jun-hee wanted to smash her head against the table.
“We get to decide who to eliminate, and we can choose three players?” 336 questioned.
“That is correct. In the final game, you need to eliminate a minimum of three players.”
Her, Yeon-hee, and Gi-hun were the perfect targets for this.
“You said, ‘A minimum of three players’, doesn’t that mean more can be eliminated?”
I’m going to kill one of these myself.
“That is correct.”
Jun-hee really wanted to guess what this square guard's favorite word was.
“However, the choice is yours.”
We’re fucked, Jun-hee thought as she looked Gi-hun right in the eye, just as he had done in Jump Rope after getting Yeon-hee to the other side.
“So we can also decide how many will be eliminated?” Myung-gi questioned
How about I decide when you’re going to be eliminated, you two-faced, deadbeat little-
“That is correct.”
Jun-hee never thought she’d be annoyed by a word as simple as ‘geureotseumnida.’
”Aigo-sh-“ 203 roughly put down the spoon he was holding. “Explain it better. What the hell are you saying?”
“So,” 100 joined back in the conversation. “All we need to do is eliminate at least three people, and we get to decide who they will be, isn’t that right?”
“That is correct.”
Jun-hee is going to fucking pull her own hair out if the guard says that damn word one more time.
“In the final game, the eliminated players will be decided by everyone.”
Jun-hee was too exhausted to cry.
“Everyone will get to eliminate three players, and the rest will leave this place as the final winners.”
Jun-hee was almost sorry that she couldn’t be as selfless as Gi-hun was, and wanted nothing more than at least her, Gi-hun, and Yeon-hee to make it out if it came down to that. She of course maybe Min-su to survive, and couldn’t really bring herself to give two fucks about the men who tried to murder her child. But if the game really did turn ugly, she’d prefer at least to get out with her baby and the man who she sees as a father.
“Now, let’s begin the vote.”
Jun-hee had already lost all hope in the vote, so all she could do right now was hope that the final game isn’t too bad.
“The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers.”
All eyes, including Jun-hee, turned to Gi-hun, who was no longer knocked unconscious and chained to the bedpost.
“Number 456, please vote.”
He just stayed silent for a few seconds as if glued to the chair, before finally getting up, receiving dirty looks from the O voters.
The X button beeped as Gi-hun stuck to his original vote.
Jun-hee noticed 100 aggressively chewing his food like an animal while sighing at Gi-hun’s vote, staring the latter right into his soul, as if he didn't already have enough pessimism peristalting inside of him.
“Number 353, please vote.”
The man kept staring at Gi-hun even as he got off his chair and started walking, and Jun-hee could only pray that he would comically crash into the voting platform.
He didn’t.
Even as Gi-hun sat down, 336 wouldn’t stop staring him down either.
353 voted to stay, as expected.
“Number 336.”
Walking side by side but in opposite directions, 353 and 336 gave each other a look, before 336 went ahead and pressed O.
“Number 333.”
Myung-gi went up to the platform with blank expression.
When he stopped in his tracks to take a good look at the prize money, Jun-hee knew what he would vote.
The blue button beeped.
Ripping off his X patch to replace it with the O one, Jun-hee couldn’t see his face. And she was glad that she couldn’t.
She saw Gi-hun stare in his direction, his head almost identical to the villains in those indie horror games Jun-hee had played with her friends. Probably because he’d originally been an X voter, switching his vote to O when they needed an X voter the most.
“Number 222.”
Jun-hee got up from her seat, giving Myung-gi a dirty look before marching up to the buttons and slamming her hand over the X button.
“Number 203.”
The man got up and pressed O as usual, the smirk not leaving his face even as he sat back down on his chair.
“Number 125.”
Jun-hee’s eyes snapped towards Min-su, who still kept gulping down the drinks.
”Drugs make you a lot thirsty,” Mi-yeon’s voice echoed in Jun-hee’s head.
“Hey!”
Min-su shakily wiped his mouth.
“Hey!” 100 yelled again, this time louder, catching Min-su’s attention. “Go vote!”
The latter could only look around in shame, before getting up to approach the buttons as 100 couldn’t take his eyes off of the young boy. 100 somewhat had the face of a kid-toucher, Jun-hee felt like giggling at the thought.
Min-su looked around at the players before adjusting his clothes, and to Jun-hee’s shock, he stuck to his original vote instead of O.
Jun-hee saw Gi-hun give Min-su an unexplained look, him being the third and only other X voter, other than him and Jun-hee of course.
A memory flashed in Jun-hee’s mind, Nam-gyu voting X in the last game, and then Min-su voting O right after him, staring him down. Was revenge the only reason Min-su voted O last round? Did he just want to kill Nam-gyu and get away with it?
“Number 120.”
Jun-hee’s head jolted upwards as she blinked, looking at the guard and then Yeon-hee, who had the bottle removed from her lips.
“Number 120 will be considered to have abstained due to their inability to make decisions.”
Jun-hee just sighed.
“Does anyone have any objections?”
As if-
“I,” Jun-hee turned to the man sitting on the neighbouring table, looking at him with skepticism.
“—Have no objections.”
203 quickly finished up the last bits of rice in his bowl, groaning and adjusting his jacket. “Can I get some more rice?” He asked.
“Come on, hyung, it’s your turn,” 203 said to 100, who chuckled at him before standing up.
“Do we all agree, then?” 100 said, the crowd erupting into agreements at the question. “Hurry up and vote, and let’s eat!”
100 got up, approaching the buttons, giving a dirty look to poor Min-su before pressing O again.
“Lastly, number 039.”
“Can’t we just call it now?” 100 shouted. “We already got six out of ten votes, so that’s a majority!”
“You,” He pointed at 039. “You need to vote?”
“N- No,” 039 said, shakily, as if he was lying. “I was—uh—going to vote O anyway.” He carefully looked around, sitting back down on his chair.
“A majority of six out of ten have voted in favor,” The square guard continued. “The final game will proceed. Thank you.”
100 laughed like a maniac as he headed back to his seat, applauding at the result, filling up more alcohol in his cup.
“Since we have made it this far,” 100 said confidently, as if he was the one who guided the entire pack of players during the first game. “In the final game, to do our best, let’s raise a toast! Everyone, raise your glasses!"
“Geonbae!” 100 shouted.
“Geonbae!” The rest of them raised their glasses.
And so did Myung-gi, oblivious to his ex-girlfriend staring him down.
“Now, let us feast!” 100 continued, laughing.
As if you had been doing something very productive till now.
“Enjoy, everyone!”
“Hey, bring me more galbi and japchae!”
“Booze, I want more booze.”
Jun-hee just sighed, turning to Gi-hun, signaling him to finish up his food, before turning back to her own.
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The guards had long taken the tables away, as the O’s continued to scheme against Jun-hee, Yeon-hee, Gi-hun, and Min-su. Jun-hee noticed that this was the first time Gi-hun had properly noticed Min-su and his helplessness, his face reflecting guilt as he couldn’t really do anything about the bloodthirsty men seeing the drug addict as an easy target.
The O voters dispersed to their beds, as Jun-hee approached Gi-hun’s bed.
“Ajeossi,” She said, slightly startling the man.
“Sorry.” She said, beginning to sit down next to his bed, before his hand shot out to grab her arm.
Pushing her to the side, Gi-hun sat down on the floor himself, signaling her to take the bed. “You need a soft surface to sit on. The labour pain must be hurting—”
To his surprise, the young woman just sat down next to him on the floor.
“Jun-hee-ya—”
“It’s alright. As you said, labour can last up to hours. I did amazing! That’s what you said, right? In Jump Rope?”
A moment of silence.
“Do men in their forties get short-term memory loss too?”
“I don’t have short term memory loss.” He said, sounding annoyed but also sounding like he didn’t mean to sound annoyed. “And I’m fifty.”
“Really!?”
“Why are you so shocked?”
“You look like you’re in your forties!”
A small huff escaped his lips.
“I’m not joking! Your hair is still black, and I guess your awesome facecard also plays part in it.” Jun-hee doesn't know why she was talking about this, but it helped taking hers and Gi-hun's mind off of the games for a few seconds.
“Awesome facecard?” He echoed, fully turning to Jun-hee.
“I’m not joking, I swear.” Jun-hee fixed her posture. “You’re obviously way stronger than that fatass 100, but you very brutally beat him in terms of looks, you know? You even look like that one actor.”
Gi-hun knew what was coming. “Which actor?”
“I dunno, they played this really old movie at my orphanage, I think, City of the.. sunrise?”
“City of the rising sun,” Gi-hun said. “Lee Jung-jae.”
“Yeah, that actor! You look so much like him!”
“I get that a lot, but not by younger ones like you, people your age don't really watch movies that old,” Gi-hun added. “You’re an orphan?”
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“I have you now, don’t I? You’re no less than an appa.”
There was a distant look in Gi-hun’s eyes with that word.
“Oh,” Jun-hee realized. “Your daughter.”
They stayed silent for a few seconds.
“What’s her name? Where is she right now?”
“Ga-yeong,” Gi-hun said. “In the US.” Gi-hun’s mood, which had been slightly uplifted through being told the same thing he was told when he was younger, when the days were better, instantly faded. “She’s fourteen years old.” Somehow, even though he never dared to open up to anyone about his personal life, doing so with Jun-hee feels... oddly easy.
“Why is she in the US?”
“I divorced her eomma, and she moved to the US, 3 years ago.”
“Oh.” Jun-hee dryly exclaimed. “So like, my little US sister? Cool!”
“You’re not even taking this seriously, with the final game tomorrow, are you, Jun-hee-ya?”
“You grow numb to it one game or another. How were you feeling the night before the final game, back then?”
Gi-hun just sighed.
Jun-hee muttered an apology, but now that Gi-hun thinks about it, there’s no way he’s making it out of here alive for the second time. Might as well share some things he’s been keeping bottled up inside of him ever since they took place.
“There was this girl,” Jun-hee’s ears perked up in interest. “She was about your age, pretty similar to what you are to me. Like a kid.”
“Like your kid?”
“Kind of, yes.”
Jun-hee smiled.
“She was the one who reminded me who I am, who I’d been through the games, someone with humanity. Someone who couldn’t kill anyone.” The Shaman’s dying face flashed before his eyes.
Jun-hee’s eyes softened at that.
“Now that I think about it, you both are strikingly similar. She had short hair, a sharp face expression most of the time.. always so guarded, not trusting other people.” Gi-hun explained.
“So you think I’m guarded and untrusting of people?”
“At first, yes. You were pretty distant with us after the second game; you didn’t say much except for when you told us your name.”
Jun-hee chuckled. Just like being told that she did well in childbirth in the last game, being seen and loved in a parental way felt nice.
“It was just the height.. she was about as tall as I am, like just two or three inches shorter.”
Jun-hee’s head snapped towards Gi-hun’s direction. “Really? I always found tall girls very cool.”
“She was best friends with another girl, who was as short as you. I feel like she would’ve liked you, too.”
“What was her name?”
“Sae-byeok.” Gi-hun’s voice cracked. “Kang Sae-byeok.”
“Sae-byeok,” Jun-hee repeated. “Pretty.”
“That’s what I thought too. Unlike you, she was not really that optimistic. I think I’ve only seen her smile in photos. Her and I were on not-too-good terms when she told me her name. ‘Not sure that it fits’, I said to her face.” Gi-hun didn’t know why he was sharing this part. Probably because it was his only clear and ‘happy’ memory he had with Sae-byeok, and wanted to share it someone. Someone trusting. Kim Jun-hee.
Jun-hee laughed. “Ooh, witty ajeossi. So fascinating to think about.”
“Shut up,” Gi-hun slightly smiled.
He didn’t know how, to be honest. He hadn’t smiled ever since Jung-bae hugged him during the vote. Not since the bullet pierced through his chest in the purple hallways.
It was too easy for the girl to make him laugh. He almost wanted to live, to get out of here with Jun-hee, to have countless emotional rollercoaster talks with her.
Would he and Ga-yeong be like this too, if she had stayed, if he had enough courage to use the blood money to make her stay? Having funny teenage daughter and world-weary father conversations during late hours of the night, when Ga-yeong would have school tomorrow, and Eun-ji had long told her to go to sleep?
“If only you said something like that to 100 as well.”
Gi-hun always saw the good in people, people like 100 as well, to the point of convincing himself that every time 100 provoked him, he was just stressed out due to his debt being twenty percent of the entire prize money.
Not after he and the other O’s, save for maybe 333 and 125, had tried to murder Yeon-hee, though.
“—Ajeossi?”
Gi-hun was pulled out of his train of thought.
“Yes?”
“What’re you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay,” Jun-hee said, not pushing it further. “About Sae-byeok?”
“..What about her?”
“I didn’t let you continue after you told me what you said about her name.”
“Right.” Gi-hun adjusted his position. “She died the night before the final game.” His voice slightly shook. Opening up to Jun-hee of all people made him realize how little to no he had ever talked about the loss and pain part of the games.
Jun-hee’s lighthearted mood evaporated in an instant. “What?”
“She had an injury from the last game she didn’t- tell me about,” Gi-hun's voice started cracking, and it took him a few moments to tell himself that he wasn’t back there with a dying young girl, but next to a living one, who will definitely make it out of here. After forcing himself to breathe, he realized that Jun-hee sandwiched his hand between hers.
“Jun-hee-ya?”
“Hyun-ju-unnie held my hand just like this when I was giving birth to Yeon-hee. It helped. I thought it would help you, since you teared up.”
“I did?”
Jun-hee just looked at him, dumbfounded, before Gi-hun put his other hand on his eyes and found a slight hint of moisture.
“Oh.”
Jun-hee just sighed. “You really need to process everything you went through, Ajeossi. Once we get out, I’ll help you. My roommate in college knows a bit about this stuff, PTSD, trauma, and all that stuff.” Jun-hee realized she never had felt to urge to reunite with Mi-yeon as much as she did now.
Gi-hun had an unreadable expression on his face.
Jun-hee slumped against the wall, still holding onto Gi-hun’s hand with one hand.
“Guess we’re just hypocrites who don’t take our own advices, huh?”
Gi-hun stayed silent.
“I wasn’t able to eat much, despite telling you to. And you did the same thing.”
They just sat in silence for a few seconds, taking in their decisions through this game, and the fact that the rest of their team was dead.
“Hyun-ju-ssi was with you, huh?” Gi-hun asked. “When you gave birth?”
“It was nice.” Jun-hee admitted. “She was like an older sister. I felt just like Young-mi-ssi in that moment.”
“Who?”
“Hyun-ju-unnie’s best friend. She passed away in the third game. You must remember her, the shorter girl, shorter than me, even, who cried during the vote after the second game, begging everyone to let her go home.”
“Oh,” Gi-hun sounded like he remembered. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to her?”
“Young-mi-ssi?”
“No, Hyun-ju-ssi.”
Jun-hee’s jaw clenched. “She found the exit.” Her voice cracked a bit, just like Gi-hun’s did, when he talked about Sae-byeok.
“The exit to the fourth game. She found it while fighting a red player. Despite finding the exit to the game, from where she could’ve easily passed the game to safety, she gave up the chance of survival just to come back and get Halmeoni and me.” Gi-hun’s eyes widened as he stared at Jun-hee. Oh, How he wishes too-late he could’ve been there with his friend in her last moments, just like he wished with Ali. “She was smiling when she returned, and got stabbed by a seeker behind her, someone she didn’t notice.”
Would things have been different, if Gi-hun were with them? What if he fought and killed the seeker and saved Hyun-ju? Even if it cost him his life due to breaking the rules of a seeker attacking one of their kind, Hyun-ju could’ve lived. Maybe she could’ve carried Jun-hee after carrying the baby, unlike Gi-hun, who just pathetically made the new mother pass the game on her own.
“You’ve changed a lot, for a span of a single game.” Gi-hun noticed. “You were so scared in Jump Rope, even cried in the bathroom—”
“The men pissed me off.”
Gi-hun didn’t say anything.
“How did you and Halmeoni make it out, in the fourth game?”
“Yong-sik-ssi tried to stab me. I never blamed him for that, though, he was faced with the choice of either killing me or his own eomma. I don’t blame him for choosing me.”
Gi-hun’s head swiftly turned to Jun-hee. “Is that why Halmeoni killed him?”
“I guess,” Jun-hee said, dryly, before blinking in realization. “How did you—”
“Halmeoni talked to me last night. It’s how I was able to let go of my frozen state, and was able to help you and Yeon-hee. Might as well would’ve taken my own life in the last game, if Halmeoni didn’t have that talk with me.”
Jun-hee’s eyes widened at him, posture straightening. “Don’t say that.”
Gi-hun regretted voicing his thoughts out loud. “Sorry.”
“Number 456.” A square guard appeared out of nowhere, startling Jun-hee.
“What is it, geureotsubnida-ssi?” Jun-hee whispered under her breath.
“I heard that.” The guard deadpanned at her, making Jun-hee gulp.
The guard turned back to Gi-hun. “He wants to see you.”
Gi-hun looked at him with a slightly confused face.
“Who wants to see him?” Jun-hee questioned. “The Masked Man? the one who runs—”
The square guard suddenly pointed his handgun at Jun-hee, making Gi-hun jolt up in defence.
“Number 222, Kim Jun-hee.”
Jun-hee clutched Yeon-hee tighter, shielding her, just like she did in Jump Rope.
“The staff will not tolerate any more disturbances. Number 456, please come with us.”
Jun-hee’s hand shot out to grab Gihun’s arm. “How do I know you’re not luring him away to just kill him in silence?”
“We give every one of the players a fair chance.”
“What if the O’s try to attack me while he’s gone?”
“Physical violence is now prohibited amongst the players, as we stated before the final dinner. Any player who tries to attack you will be eliminated.”
Jun-hee wanted to say more, but couldn’t find her voice. Gi-hun turned to her.
“I’ll be right back.”
Hyun-ju’s hunter knife from the fourth game weighed heavier in her pocket.
As Gi-hun was escorted by the guard, Jun-hee got off the floor, advancing to her own bed. Sitting down, she held Yeon-hee close.
“Ooh, poor girl, eomma’s been ignoring you to talk to Ajeossi, hm? He’s more like an appa. You know what that means, baby? You have a halabeoji.” Jun-hee smiled at her baby, looking up towards the fast asleep O voters, their audible snoring, or specifically 100’s, interrupting the little mother-daughter moment.
She doesn’t know what motivated her to do so, probably her impatience with waiting for Gi-hun, but she got off her bad, approaching Min-su’s bed, who flinched at the sight of her.
“Min-s—”
“Se-mi-ya?”
Jun-hee looked at him, confused. “No, no, it’s not Se-mi. I’m—”
“Se-mi-ya.” He continued, suddenly joining his hands. “I- I’m sorry, Se-mi-ya,” He rubbed his hands together in aggressive apology, “I killed you, I killed you!” Jun-hee just forced the hands back down.
“I forgive you,” Jun-hee said, after a moment of silence.
Min-su broke down into tears.
“No, no, you can’t, I didn’t-” He sobbed. “I didn’t save you from him-”
“From Nam-gyu?”
“Yes-” He cried further.
Jun-hee knew it. She somehow knew that the bastard, Nam-gyu killed someone dear to Min-su.
“I’m so sorry, I killed you, Se-mi-ya.”
“Nam-gyu killed me. It was all Nam-gyu’s fault, not yours.”
Min-su cowered against the bed, Jun-hee realizing that he had chugged down a fuck-ton of alcohol, and that he’d be easy to put to sleep.
“It’s alright,” Jun-hee patted his arm. “You can sleep.”
Min-su just nodded, under the influence of drugs and booze, and wrapped himself in the blanket, as if protecting himself from Nam-gyu’s ghost.
The dead man had quite a dangerous and psychic reputation around the games, Jun-hee must give him that.
“You did a great job taking the revenge,” Jun-hee said to Min-su, the latter dozing off.
Returning to her bed, to Yeon-hee, Jun-hee couldn’t help but notice that she’s not feeling sleepy under any circumstances, no matter how much she tries to close her eyes and lie down, and also notice that Gi-hun is taking way too long.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
“Seong Gi-hun-ssi.”
The same hatred, the same betrayal, and the exact same devastation ran through Gi-hun’s body just as it did when he saw Oh Il-nam alive in a luxurious hospital bed.
Bile rose in Gi-hun’s throat, wondering whose dying breaths the Frontman recorded on the radio when faking his death.
“About Jung-bae-ssi, I’m sorry.”
No.
No you aren’t.
“He was dear to you.”
He was everything to me in this game, surrounded by people wondering who I could trust and who I could not.
Gi-hun jolted up to his feet in rage, grabbing the dagger and pulling open the cover so hard he was surprised that it didn’t slip out of his left hand and fly across the room.
Tears blurred his vision, Young-il’s—no, the Frontman’s face out of sight, the hand holding the dagger violently trembled, just like it did when he was about to murder the Shaman. His teeth grinded together, taking ragged and heavy breaths.
“Do you want to kill me?”
With my entire soul.
“Then go ahead.”
But I can’t.
“It’s just you and me here.”
I have not one, but two young women, expecting, wanting me to hold on to my humanity.
Gi-hun struggled not to tremble in front of the man responsible for everything, the man who shot his best friend right in the stomach, the man who caused Jun-hee so much pain by letting the baby play in Hyun-ju’s tow.
“There’s no one here to stop you.”
Is what you might be able to say. You don’t have a ghost looming above your head, a ghost whose face you struggle to remember, a ghost who keeps telling you not to do it.
“But killing me won’t change anything.”
It would change how both my daughters see me. It would change how my biological daughter sees me.
“Someone else will take my place,”
Another upgraded underdog, is it? Just like the ddakji-man?
“And tomorrow’s game will still go ahead.”
The games always go ahead, don’t they? Even if someone was unfairly injured, even if someone gave birth, the games never stop.
“And in that game,” Young-il continued. “You, the aegi, and Jun-hee-ssi will be killed by the trash.”
Isn’t that what you want to see?
Gi-hun had somehow managed to calm himself, lowering the dagger, taking breaths with difficulty.
“Once you kill all of them,” He explained. “The players will only be you, the aegi, and Jun-hee-ssi.”
You just want to watch me either lose my humanity, or watch the players kill all three of us.
“The next game can’t be played with only three people.”
Gi-hun just blankly stared at him.
“Then, according to the rules,” The Frontman talked in suspense, as if telling a story. “The game,” A pause. “Will end there.”
Gi-hun struggled to even take a deep breath, his chest stuck in one place.
“You, the aegi, and Jun-hee-ssi, will get out of there alive.” The Frontman spoke, as if fully expecting Gi-hun to do it, as if having not monitored his every move for the past three years, as if not knowing who Gi-hun is. Hell, the Frontman could describe Gi-hun better than how Gi-hun could describe himself.
“I promise you.”
Promises don’t exist in a place like this.
Gi-hun’s eyebrows trembled, and it took him every muscle inside of his body to not cry.
“She’s a lot like you, isn’t she?”
“Who?”
“Jun-hee-ssi.”
Gi-hun would never wish it upon anyone to end up like him.
“What makes you say so?” He took a small, slow step towards the Frontman, narrowing his eyes.
“She doesn’t have that hopefulness in her anymore, not the level she had at the start of the game.”
Gi-hun just sighed, not wanting to admit that the Frontman is right.
“She has that same, blank expression you had. But her optimism isn’t gone. She’s still hoping to make it out along with you, not just her and the baby. Just like you hoped to make it out with Kang Sae-byeok-ssi.”
“Do not say her name—”
“Sae-byeok-ssi had proven you wrong,” The Frontman said, knowing exactly where to sprinkle the salt. “Now you must prove Jun-hee-ssi right.”
“Oh Young-il.” Gi-hun said, lowering his head to the glare the Frontman right in his eyes. “Is that even your real name?”
He had asked Oh Il-nam the same thing two years ago.
Oh Il-nam.
Oh Young-il.
“Are you the son, that Il-nam talked so fondly about?” Gi-hun questioned.
“My name is not Oh Young-il.”
A fake name. Gi-hun should’ve known.
“My name is Hwang In-ho.”
Hwang In-ho.
Hwang In-ho.
The name seemed familiar, but where—
“Seong Gi-hun-ssi.”
Gi-hun’s blood turned to ice, his shock so visible that In-ho noticed it too.
“Please help me. I have to find my hyung.”
“I see that you figured out who I really am.”
Gi-hun’s head snapped up towards In-ho.
“Hwang Jun-ho is my younger brother.”
“Is he working with—”
“He has no relations to the games and is actually helping to find the island, but did lie to you about my identity. Possibly to keep me safe from your hands to demand answers about why I did all this.”
Why does life lie to him so much?
“We are Gganbu, aren't we?
“Hey, Gi-hun-ah, once we get out of here, let’s drink Soju together, like the old times.”
“No, I didn’t see who shot me. He had the mask on.”
“Oh Young-il, my name’s the number I was given.”
Gi-hun is torn between feeling sympathy for the boy, for whom his biological brother turned out to be, and feeling nothing but anger, for lying to him, to make this harder than it already is.
“You, the aegi, and Jun-hee will be killed tomorrow.”
Why does he sound so genuine?
Why does Gi-hun want to trust him once again, so bad?
“Kill them first.” He said with finality.
“That is,” He paused. “The best choice you can make right now.”
You sound like Oh Il-nam, Gi-hun wanted to say.
Despite everything, despite so many words waiting right on his tongue, Gi-hun turned away and left, afraid of what he might say.
“Number 456.”
Back to the number, Gi-hun thought, before stopping.
“Do you still think humans are faithful?” Frontman asked, his expression unreadable as he was behind Gi-hun.
“Do you still think.. humans are.. faithful?” Il-nam asked, his expression unreadable as he looked out the window.
Gi-hun stayed silent this time, unlike back then, when he bombarded Il-nam with a bunch of questions.
Gi-hun continued his walk towards the elevator, receiving no response from the Frontman.
The doors opened before Gi-hun pressed any button to reveal the square guard standing at the elevator, showing that the Frontman sent a signal the moment Gi-hun walked away.
The guard led Gi-hun into the elevator.
Going downwards, back to the dormitory, Gi-hun couldn’t help but wonder with what kind of questions Jun-hee will have for him.
But when Gi-hun actually walked into the dormitory, he saw Jun-hee asleep next Yeon-hee.
Approaching the sleeping pair of mother and daughter, Gi-hun couldn’t help but smile. A difficult, sad one but a real one.
He ran his hand across Jun-hee’s head, turning to the O’s, his hand tightening around the dagger in his hold.
Looking around, his eyes landed on the most insufferable of them all—100.
“Who do you think you are? Why do you keep egging people on like that?”
His eyes narrowed at the sleeping man, legs spread, snoring like a horse.
“Sh, sh, sh, sh! If all 365 of us survive, the money won’t go up at all!”
He finally took a step forward.
“The money went up, we won the vote by a landslide. Let’s thank him with a big round of applause!”
His steps made an audible noise against the floor.
“Number 120!? That she-male?”
His expression so fierce, he wouldn’t recognize himself in the mirror. He never did, not since the games.
“That male-bodied freak is dead, so the baby should be eliminated! Am I right?”
Gi-hun’s footsteps slowed down, as he looked at the snoring man’s face, remembering Jun-hee’s snarky remarks and the way she always looked down on the man because of his face, he almost looked similar to Gi-hun’s old boss from Dragon Motors. The one who walked all over the employees with a strictness that made it sound like the company was one mistake away from destruction. Looking at the outcome, Gi-hun is sure that was the case. It made him want to drive the knife into 100’s throat even more, maybe even imagine him as the boss like a psychopath.
But it was only until Gi-hun took in his chest, breathing, alive, rising up and down, peacefully.
Oh, what he would not do to see the number ‘218’ instead of ‘100’ imprinted on that shirt, what he would not do to replace that unfamiliar figure with his lean, slender body, what he would not do to see Sang-woo’s chest rise and fall, to just feel his pulse.
His hands shook.
He stared at 100, wide-eyed, aiming his knife right at his throat.
He can’t do it.
His left hand shot out to grab the right one, to inject more strength into the knife, to push it through the selfish man’s throat, right into his vocal cords, so he could never talk. Never mock those fallen to the revolt so effortlessly, as if he were talking about fiction. Never so easily let the words ‘she-male’ and ‘male-bodied-freak’ roll off his tongue, as if he weren’t talking about a dead person, a dead woman who could’ve escaped and survived, but didn’t, even at the cost of her own life. Never talk about killing a baby so easily, just for a higher distribution of the prize money.
The tip of the knife touched the skin of his neck.
Gi-hun audibly gritted his teeth, hissing at the old man just like he did at Hwang In-ho.
He tightened his chest, forcing himself to just drive the knife in, telling himself that it’s not that hard.
“Ajeossi.”
The revelation of Cho Hyun-ju’s death being a sacrifice, and Hwang Jun-ho lying to him, had enough impact on his head. So why was his mind playing tricks on him now? Now, of all times, when he needed to be the strongest?
“Don’t do it.”
His eyes flickered upwards for a few seconds, and he swore he saw her.
The same suit, the same bed, the same thin sheet held closely to her waist to hide her wound. Her bangs messed up by sweat and stress, tangled hair, tall but so small and fragile at the same time, cowering against the bed.
He remembered everything.
Everything, but her face.
I'm slowly forgetting your face.
“Ajeossi,” She continued. “You are not that kind of person.”
That’s what I’ve been telling myself ever since I encountered people like Number 100, Sae-byeok-ah. Not loud out of fear like Han Mi-nyeo, not lying for survival like Kang Dae-ho, not pushed into a gruesome decision by the system like Park Yong-sik. But evil, pure, pure evil.
But when Gi-hun withdrew the knife and looked up, all he saw was an empty space.
Was that Sae-byeok’s ghost haunting the place where she was killed, or was it just Gi-hun’s own, deep-buried humanity trying to break out of it's metaphorical prison?
He’d never know.